The Sergeant took it, and read aloud: "Mr. Abraham Budd, 333c Bishopsgate, EC. Well, we know where he's to be found, that's one thing. You state that he wasn't known to you, I see."
"I never laid eyes on the individual before in my life, Sergeant. He was not the type of person I have been in the habit of admitting to the house," said Simmons haughtily.
Glass dispelled this pharisaical attitude with one devastating pronouncement. "Though the Lord be high, yet hath he respect unto the lowly," he said in minatory accents, "but the proud he knoweth afar off."
"My soul is humbled in me," apologised Simmons.
"Never mind about your soul!" said the Sergeant impatiently. "And don't take any notice of Glass! You listen to me! Can you describe this Budd's appearance?"
"Oh yes, Sergeant! A short, stout person in a suit which I should designate as on the loud side, and a bowler hat. I fancy he is of the Jewish persuasion."
"Short and stout!" said the Sergeant, disappointed. "Sounds to me like a tout. Did the deceased expect a visit from him?"
"I hardly think so. Mr. Budd stated that his business was urgent, and I was constrained to take his card to Mr. Fletcher. My impression was that Mr. Fletcher was considerably annoyed."
"Do you mean scared?"
"Oh no, Sergeant! Mr. Fletcher spoke of "damned impertinence", but after a moment he told me to show Mr. Budd in, which I did."